Somewhere Else
by Moonlit Seductress
Summary: Hawkeye's sure he's seen the new cutter, but where...? (This should probably be in my short story series, but oh well. TH, incase you didn't know P)


Disclaimer: How many times? I don't own them.

Somewhere Else

Hawkeye tossed a beer to Spearchucker, who moved to catch it easily. With a sigh, Hawkeye settled on his bunk, stretching, as lithe as a cat. Frank was out somewhere, there were no wounded – life was about as good as it got in Korea. 

Someone knocked on the door. "Come in, if you dare," Hawkeye called, half – joking, half – serious. Henry ducked into the tent, followed by a tall, curly haired man, who surveyed the small tent with a mixture of curiosity and disgust.

"Hiya Henry," Hawkeye greeted the CO. "Have a drink." Henry shook his head. "No thanks. I choose life." Hawkeye rolled his eyes at Spearchucker. "He has no respect for liquid socks."

Henry pondered this for a while, before shaking his head. He would never ever fully understand Hawkeye Pierce. But that was ok. Few did.

"I've brought you guys a new cutter," Henry said, motioning to the tall man. He waited for the cheers to die down, before he continued. "Well, I'll leave you three to get acquainted." He made his escape before Hawkeye could befuddle him any more.

Hawkeye observed the other surgeon quickly. He was tall – a little over six feet. He had curly, brown – blonde hair, snapping hazel eyes, and a slightly nervous expression. "What's your name?" Hawkeye asked, still staring. This guy looked oddly familiar…

"Captain John Xavier McIntyre," the other replied. Hawkeye frowned. The name was familiar too. He was sure he'd met this guy before. But where?

Spearchucker leaned forward, offering Trapper his brown hand. "Good to meet you. Goodnight." With a sigh, Spearchucker indulged in his favourite activity – sleeping. Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Sit down," he told Trapper, who eased his tall frame into a chair. "That bunk's yours, if you wanna dump your stuff," Hawkeye pointed.  "Thanks." Trapper tossed his duffel bag onto the bunk next to Hawkeye's.

"Want a drink?" Hawkeye asked, pouring two martinis. Trapper shrugged. "Sure," he answered, reaching out a hand with long, slim fingers. Surgeon's hands.

As Hawkeye handed the other man his drink, their fingers brushed together, and Hawkeye was transported 12 000 miles away, back ten years. 

It was the college football championships – Androscoggin vs. Dartmouth. Hawkeye, the quarterback, had just pulled off a spectacular catch – when he was tackled. The ball slipped from his hands, and a guy off the other team scooped it up.

Furious, Hawkeye twisted, still in the grip of his tackler. Brown eyes met blue, and time stopped. It was just them, still clinging to each other, breathing hard from running. The cries of their teammates and the spectators faded to silence as they stared. Something turned in Hawkeye's stomach, and a piercing sound penetrated the silence.

The referee separated the two players, who were maintaining their eye contact. Someone touched Hawkeye's shoulder, and he turned. When he turned back, the hazel eyes were gone. 

Androscoggin won the game, and both teams headed to the nearest bar, where the losers treated the winners to round after round of drinks. 

The bar emptied slowly, and soon, Hawkeye and some Dartmouth guy were the only ones left. As the bartender shooed them out, Hawkeye turned to look at the other. 

It was that guy who tackled him. 

Making an effort at conversation, Hawkeye stuck out a hand. "Hi," he greeted. "Name's Hawkeye Pierce."

"Trapper McIntyre," the other returned. "That was a good game you played, you're very good." Hawkeye grinned. "Thanks. So…" He was so used to being able to hold witty conversations, but this guy was bringing the butterflies to his stomach. "What are you doing in school?"

"Medical. I'm hoping to start my residency soon." Hawkeye nodded. "Yeah, me too. You wanna be a doctor, or a surgeon?"

Trapper shrugged. "Surgeon, I guess. You?"

"Definitely a surgeon. Just like my old man." Hawkeye yawned. "Well, I'd better be getting home." Trapper slapped his forehead. "Shit. I've forgotten where the hell we're staying…damn, damn, damn."

Hawkeye took a deep breath – he was inexplicably nervous. "You can bunk at my place, if you want." An odd offer, maybe, considering he'd only met the guy four hours ago. Trapper look relieved. "Could I?" 

"Sure."

They walked to Hawkeye apartment, both dropping their bags on the floor. Hawkeye went to a glass cabinet. "You want a drink?" he asked, ignoring the fact that they were pretty drunk already. Trapper nodded. "Sure, why not. I'm not a heavy drinker, but what the hell."

Hawkeye shook his head, realizing he was back in Korea, sitting next to that same man. His memories of the meeting got rather hazy after that, but he remembered…

Oh jeez…he remembered waking up the next morning, his body curled up next to another – Trapper. They had spent a very interesting night together. 

Hawkeye stared. "…Trapper?" The new surgeon looked up, his eyes clouding, trying to remember…

"Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye nodded dumbly. A random meeting in Boston, and now, here they were again. "Jesus Christ," Trapper said, looking as amazed as Hawkeye felt. "I woke up…and you were gone." Hawkeye thought back. "I know. I just…couldn't face you. I'd never done anything like that before, you know?"

"Yeah, me neither."

Trapper stood suddenly, pulling Hawkeye up, and standing very close. "What do you say?" he said, voice trembling slightly. "You up for round two?" 

In answer, Hawkeye leaned closer, the pieces all falling into place as his lips met Trapper's.

Yes, he thought dimly, in the back of his mind. This new guy will work out very well.

***The End***


End file.
